Yes, Mama

While we were working on the house, we stayed with my parents. We didn't want to move all of our stuff in before we painted and put down new carpet, so we had a really extended sleepover. 

At my parents house, the girls each slept in their own playpen. And yes, if you're wondering, they are just about to be too long for that to work anymore. 

In some ways, it's nice. They sit right next to each other, talking before they fall asleep or first thing in the morning. 

In other ways, though, it's become a bit of a problem. 

We put them to bed, said our goodnights and headed out the door. A few minutes later, Grace started crying. Then the crying turned to screaming and the screaming turned into "MOTHER, GET IN HERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE!" 

I opened the door -- it was pitch black -- went over to Grace's bed and bent over to pick her up. Lifted her up and realized the baby I was holding wasn't Grace. 

"Claire, did you get into Grace's bed?"

"Yes, Mama."

"Were you kicking her?" 

"Yes, Mama." 

"Do you think you should get back in your bed?" 

"Yes, Mama."